[Intro: kung fu sample]
You're here to learn kung fu, remember?
This is not a rest home...
Now go on, do some practice!

[Bronze Nazareth]
I'll prolly never be as big as Slim Shady or Jay-Z
Even though I write vivid like a home of the Greek
And study life like Socrates, without MTV
You think ya thugs, but for real, I sat offense with robbery
I'm try'nna walk the desert sands like RZA and Ringz
Gotta eat and beast, don't pay the bills, unless you got a name
Like The Neptunes, Jazze Pha or Kanye West
And if the album ain't five mics, don't front like it is
I got classic material without a mixtape host
Love Pac and B.I.G., but I miss Pun the most
I'm so underground, I play beats on the bowls, with mega errors
Sitting next to Murs, Immortal Technique and The Beggaz
Like Vernon Johnson with no voice, you'll never hear my message
Not on the block, selling cooked rocks to my sisters
Not in the club all hard with credit cards in your ass
Driving 86, got mad when Goodie Mob didn't last
Just wanted more "Soul Food" and an occassional "party"
Just wanted you to hear what I say, love it or disregard it
Just wanted Hot 97 to play my shit, like they promised
They never did, but probably payola was loudest
I'm like Van Gogh's paintings, you'll never hear my talents
It's the sound of neglect, that makes me green with malace
Search Kay found my music, he ain't answer me in a while
I was hoping The Unknown album got signed by Kevin Liles
But I never heard back from him, or Artist Direct
Sat in my room and watched Stagga Lee disrespect rap
While Khia got her neck and back, licked by the millions
I tried to tell you about history, mansions and killings
Like how the Wu-Tang gave the knowledge, but you just wanted to dance
Shame on family and friends, ain't buy Birth of a Prince
My debut, starting a war, but what's the fucking purpose?
You faggots rhyme weak, but everybody's spitting verses
We used to follow Martin Luther, up in Capitol Hill
Now you follow every rap artist whose throwback is ill
Albums weak now, internet didn't fuck up your sales
12 producers, on 12 songs, your shit can't gel
It's just a compilation album, full of your wack songs
And bitches dancin' all in your video with black thongs
All I wanted was for Steve Rifkind to listen, push play
And for those whose not listening, to hear what I say
Fuck, man....

[Intro: kung fu sample]
You're here to learn kung fu, remember?
This is not a rest home...
Now go on, do some practice!

[Bronze Nazareth]
I'll prolly never be as big as Slim Shady or Jay-Z
Even though I write vivid like I'm Homer the Greek
And study life like Socrates, without MTV
You think ya thugs, but for real, I sat with feds for robbery
I'm try'nna walk the desert sands like RZA and Ringz
Gotta eat and beats don't pay the bills, unless you got a name
Like The Neptunes, Jazze Pha or Kanye West
And if ya album ain't five mics, don't front like it is
I got classic material without a mixtape host
Love Pac and B.I.G., but I miss Pun the most
I'm so underground, I play beats on the bones of Medgar Evers
Sitting next to Murs, Immortal Technique and The Beggaz
Like Vernon Johnson with no voice, you'll never hear my message
Not on the block, selling cooked rocks to my sisters
Not in the club all hard with credit cards in your ass
Driving 86, got mad when Goodie Mob didn't last
Just wanted more "Soul Food" and an occassional "party"
Just wanted you to hear what I say, love it or disregard it
Just wanted Hot 97 to play my shit, like they promised
They never did, but probably payola was honest
I'm like Van Gogh's paintings, you'll never hear my talents
It's the sound of neglect, that makes me green with malace
Search can'tfind my music, he ain't answer me in a while
I was hoping The Unknown album got signed by Kevin Liles
But I never heard back from him, or Artist Direct
Sat in my room and watched Stagga Lee disrespect rap
While Khia got her neck and back, licked by the millions
I tried to tell you about history, mansions and killings
Like how Wu-Tang gave the knowledge, but you just wanted to danceShit, my own family and friends, ain't buy Birth of a Prince
My debut, started to wonder what's the fucking purpose?
You faggots rhyme weak, but everybody's spitting verses
We used to follow Martin Luther, up in Capitol Hill
Now you follow every rap artist whose throwback is ill
Albums weak now, internet didn't fuck up your sales
12 producers, on 12 songs, your shit can't gel
It's just a compilation album, full of your wack songs
And bitches dancin' all in your video with black thongs
All I wanted was for Steve Rifkind to listen, push play
And for those whose not listening, to hear what I say
Fuck, man....

[Bronze]Yo one shot, that's all it is.Just a taste of where I come from (That's right my nigga!)Yo, yo

One shot in the air for those that's not scaredTo raise they own, in basements stay blownSo much stress, I'ma just up and get a vestAim best, hit ya chest like a metoriteTill the media strike and reporters go homeI don't know, maybe it's just meMaybe I'm no good, go back home throwin' the hoodAnd get it like they get it, but see we got a problemMom's got no conscience and I ain't got no problemsLayin' niggas down like carpetBitches come around like my .38 revolvin'Acting like they are and my queen don't know mePressure stay deep like an ocean reefHad to hold some beef, over beats for some ivoryApartment luxuries, run with me Through streets of terror, concrete barriersThat's how I feel That's how I sleep under the moon, shit is realPressure bust pipesDocs talkin bout, blood pressures up highThe next thing I know, the feds at the doorFor a robbery that happend back in 2000Look at 14 years in jail-housinAnd I ain't heard shit since, but damn a nigga tenseEverytime I pick up the phone I think it clicksParaniod skits, how the fuck am I sane, how is life like thisBut I passed that stage like a masqurade and I'm still herePour beer on an average dayNow we smoke weed and we never got a strategySnakes don't rattle me, I'll put you out my miseryExquisitly, I hit the trees for my ancestorsLife is a gunfight, test a man's essenceJuly black, where June atMy right hand man must've slipped through the cracksI miss you dawg, but for real you wrongI guess every man feel like he gotta move onIt's hard as hell, I need a mil in the bankfor that, I need my will and a shank, plus a shell in the tankMy girl's late and she don't act right neitherFor that, I hit ?the streets and peddle? like a heavy lifterFrom my door to yours is long distanceModern day peasants, life is restlessAnd they don't understand till I got a gun in handOn some, "Yo, nigga run it like Cunningham!"Chips on my shoulder turn to broken bonesSlip by a soldier, turn to broken homesBuy weight and open tombs for last ritesLast night's glass pipes reflect from my headlightsIn a zoo of dead lifeFor bread even the birds fight, feel like I'm livin' third strikeThen I realized I was a man when The headline read, "19 Year Old Man Dead"Rest for Shawn, peace to my first bornHeart torn, bleed purple warzoneIt's rainin' cash and we not gettin' poured on